


A New Repeat: Jealousy

by Spadesjade



Series: Tom and Michelle [11]
Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Chocolate, Cleveland, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Jealousy, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-01
Updated: 2015-05-01
Packaged: 2018-03-26 14:43:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3854551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spadesjade/pseuds/Spadesjade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom and Michelle take some time in Cleveland, but not all things are quite settled.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A New Repeat: Jealousy

I had never thought about someone being jealous of me. And I certainly never thought I would enjoy it.

Wasn't it enough that Tom had chased me down, given up his rightful anger and begged me to give us another chance?

Apparently not.

But the fact that he was jealous of Joey, my cousin, was a bit flustering. After all, the man was my cousin. What threat did he pose?

Enough, it seemed.

I didn't want Tom to stay at a hotel. After all, he'd spent enough money following me across the ocean, and a hotel was still twenty minutes into town. To my surprise, Joey was more than willing to accommodate Tom, but it turned out not to be quite what we expected.

Joey knew why I'd broken up with Tom. He didn't quite buy my statement that Tom wouldn't have done anything if we'd slept in the same bed or even the same room -- a guy is a guy, he said, and we're all pig-dogs. I had to laugh at the analogy, asked him if //he// was also a pig-dog. He said he was, without hesitation.

At least he was fair.

So Tom was given the spare room in the basement. The basement stairs led to the back landing that let you out the back door, but there was another door that led to the kitchen. And this door had a lock on it. 

Which Joey said he was going to turn every night. 

The basement had a bathroom and a fridge, so Tom wasn't being denied anything. But I could see the stink-eye he was giving Joey whenever Joey wasn't looking and he thought I wasn't, either. 

In order to relieve potential tensions in the house, I suggested to Tom that we take a walk. While it was a county road, the shoulders were much wider than any in Los Angeles -- I had always thought that Los Angeles roads were very unforgiving to breakdowns and whatnot, considering all the accidents that happened there. 

Even in the Midwest, light pollution was a big issue, but the farm was far enough out that the sky could get dark enough to see the summer constellations. We pointed out the ones we knew to each other, and it was even clear enough to catch a faint glimpse of the Pleiades, a cluster of seven blue-white stars that were also known as the Seven Sisters. 

We held hands, letting them swing idly between us, laughing at our silly little comments about Greek Mythology, a subject we both took a vibrant interest in. 

"I think it's kind of funny, actually," Tom mused.

"What is?"

"That you're so into Greek myths. I mean, considering how religious you are."

I shrugged. "I'm into stories. Those stories were always interesting. And C.S. Lewis used extensive Greek Mythology in the Narnia stories."

"True."

"And to a certain extent, I think a mythology speaks to the culture. I mean, Egyptians were hung up on death, so all their stories were about death and rebirth and being judged in the afterlife. And the Norse gods, I don't have to tell you, were all miserable and bleak -- I mean, the gods were destined to lose their Ragnarok! It reflected their harsh view of the world. And the Greeks, well, if Zeus is any indication, it's all about sex and power and don't screw with a person who has the power to hurt you. But at least they all believed in a power greater than themselves. They knew there was something, they didn't know what it was, so they made up stories about what that power might be. But they didn't have a revelation so their gods wound up being like themselves only bigger and stronger, like our superheroes in comic books."

"So that's our mythology today," Tom mused.

"It's kind of looked down on, culturally, though," I pointed out. "Everyone knew the stories of the Greek gods in their culture, passed them down to their descendants, and they changed over time, but that process today is reserved only for those who are seen as childish -- comic book nerds, and whatnot. What does bug me, though, is our culture's distinct turning away from a power greater than itself."

"You think we glorify ourselves too much?"

"I don't think we glorify anything at all," I said. "We demonize the rich, we use sexual terms as insults...we think we glorify money and sex but we really don't, not deep down. But...no, I shouldn't say that..."

"Say what?" he tugged me closer. "You can tell me anything."

"You'll think I'm crazy. Everyone does."

"Try me."

I drew a breath. "I don't really buy into evolution."

I waited. Tom just looked at me as we walked, expectant. 

"It's just that...it was created as a way to explain the world without God. And in it, everything becomes random, and unimportant. So if we have a mythology in our culture, it isn't Christianity. It's evolution. You are just a random occurrence, you're not special, you're unique but big deal, so is everyone..."

"That's really strange, considering your field."

"Actually, just the opposite. I mean, sure, Christianity has tried to assimilate Evolution, claiming that God could have used it to make the world, and maybe...but I haven't seen enough evidence to really convince me. I see so many strange and unusual things, and they say 'intelligent design.' Which means God. I mean, whose intelligence? It has to be His. And yeah, evolution is interesting, but people forget where it came from. It came from a way to leave God out. It's like trying to turn the KKK into an inclusive club -- no self respecting person of color would join it because it's very origin was to exclude them." 

"Hm."

"Sorry. You asked."

"No, it's interesting. I don't agree with you, but it's interesting. It'll give me something to think about next week when I'm missing you." He tugged me closer, letting go of my hand to wrap his arm around my shoulder. 

At those words, I was suddenly hit by a wave of remorse. I reached around his waist with both arms and hugged him close, even as we were still walking. 

"Hey!" he said softly, but kept us moving. "You okay?"

"I just still feel really bad," I said. "I just...I wrecked all our plans."

His fingers pressed into my shoulder. "Michelle," he warned.

"No, I really mean it! I mean, even with what happened, even if we had broken up, I...I was being so impulsive. I turned off my phone, I just didn't even give you a chance..."  
"Your mind was made up," Tom pointed out. "You acted on it."

"But look at the damage I've done! Your mother...my mother..."

"What about your mother?" Tom asked, the first hint of alarm creeping into his voice.

"She called me before you came over. It wasn't like I could hide it from her."

A pronounced silence.

"What did she say?" his voice was tight.

"She...was the one I talked to when I thought...we should probably break up. And she agreed."

Tom stopped walking. The arm across my shoulders tensed. "Was it her idea?"

"No," I said quickly. "But...well...not in a suggestion way, more like a question about what I was thinking."

Tom let out a long, slow breath. "Great," he murmured.

"I'm sorry!" I said, shifting so that I could see his face. I kept my arms around him but moved to the front so that I could look up. "But that wasn't why...please don't think I did it because of her. She just...gave me a sounding board."

"I just don't want her to hate me before she's even met me," Tom said, running a hand through the curls on top of his head. His tone was almost...whiny. 

"She won't hate you, Tom," I said. "She just...I mean, where do you think I got most of my ideas from? They came from my upbringing. Admittedly, I chose to embrace them, and I don't always agree with my mother on everything, but she just...she was worried that with the way I am, you and I wouldn't work."

"What's she going to say when we show up at her house the next time I come visit?" Tom asked, clearly worried.

"She'll be surprised. I'll have my brother talk to her. Trust me, he didn't want us to break up. And my brother can handle my mother even better than my father can."

"And your dad?"

"Dad is...well, he mostly keeps out of stuff like that. He's a bit like the dad from Pride and Prejudice, but not as neglectful."

Tom considered this, staring off into the dark fields for a long minute before turning back to me with a slight smile. "Well, I always did like rising to a challenge."

I shook my head. "No challenge. You'll meet my mother and wow her with your charm like you do everyone else. And never, ever underestimate my brother. He's her favorite child."

"I doubt that," Tom admonished. 

"Oh, trust me, he gets away with shit I'd never get away with and I'm older than him. But he's got the wife and kids so he's the adult and I'm still the child." I cleared my throat. "But let's not go there."

Tom turned us and continued walking, this time headed back toward the house. "Well, one day when they see you on television on the red carpet at the Oscars they'll change their tunes."

I giggled nervously. "They won't see me. You'll be so dazzling in your pretty tux nobody will notice me."

"Oh, in the dress I'm going to make you wear, they will, trust me," he said, kissing my temple. 

\---------------

When we got back to the house, we took a final lap around the edges of the wheat field. I pointed out that in a month, if there had been enough rain, the fireflies would come out (only we called them lightning bugs in that part of the country) and would make the trees and fields look like they were sparkling brighter than the stars overhead. 

Upon going inside, Tom stopped at the short flight of stairs that led up to the kitchen and kissed me goodnight. I was surprised he was willing to go so easily -- but also heartened that he seemed to be treating the careful distance we were attempting to cultivate, without being too distant, with understanding and maturity. 

Of course, the fact that we had agreed for me to give him the grand tour of Cleveland over the next two days had helped soothe the remainder of the stirred up anxiety between us. We were going to start with downtown, his places and then my places, and spend most of the first day at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Then we were going to use the Google maps on our phones to map out whatever highlights we could find, although I already had ideas for the food.

There was one place in Cleveland that I desperately wanted to take him. It was the Christmas Story house, a movie he had seen but not grown up with like I had. Not too far away was a chocolate place called Lilly's which was one of the absolute best places I had ever had in my life and I planned to buy some to take back to L.A. with me as a consolation when I had to part ways with my boyfriend.

The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Museum definitely impressed him. We were there as soon as it opened, and we managed to get in without causing too much commotion. Tom wore he ray bans and a baseball cap (a blue Indians cap so he could blend in better) and in a plain black T-shirt and jeans he looked in inconspicuous as the next person. Except he was about a foot taller than most people and had a British accent, which he had trouble controlling because the man was always talking about something.

The Beatles and Elvis exhibits were hot spots, so we wandered around the lesser populated areas, and sat in on several films. When we finally found the section dedicated to Hank Williams, that was when Tom's motor really got going. We wound up sitting and he went on for a bit about the man and what he'd learned about him while he played him. I hadn't been with Tom during that time -- it was back in 2014 and we'd reunited on New Years going into 2016 -- and marveled at how thorough his research had been. 

Apparently he had really invested himself in that role. Most likely because it was a real person, not a character.

"I don't think I've even heard you talk about Loki this much," I said when he seemed to run out of steam. 

He chuckled. "Sorry, I was going on a bit."

"No, well, okay, yeah, you were, but I like it. I like listening to you talk."

He gave me a very sweet little smile. "Funny, I often think the same thing."

"Well, at least we'll keep each other entertained for a while. And I doubt either of us are the kind of people to run out of things to say, the way our heads work," and for emphasis, I yanked down on the brim of his baseball hat.

"Thank God," he said, grasping my hand.

"Aren't you going back to Loki here before too long?" I asked, keeping my voice very low. "I mean, aren't you in both Avengers movies coming up, shooting back to back?"

He nodded. "One of the reasons it was easy to decide to set up camp in L.A. a bit more permanently. But there's going to be location shooting too, I'm sure." He looked mildly pained. "I'll be gone a bit."

I nodded, understanding. "But we're here right now," I reminded him. 

"Mmmm," he replied, kissing my hand. "And I seem to remember you saying something along the lines of a chocolate bar?"

The Chocolate Bar was one of the most amazing things on earth. I don't know how Tom missed it up on his first visit, but being engulfed in the machine that was Marvel was a good enough excuse. 

The place featured a menu of chocolate-based drinks, including non-alcoholic beverages of shakes, froze hot chocolate, and virgin cocktails all varying in different flavors of chocolate. Their chocolate martinis were too various to mention, and I had always been curious about their wine and chocolate flights. 

And of course food. But I hardly cared much about it, except that it was useful to keep me from getting too intoxicated. 

We split most everything, from the Chocolate Bar Baguette appetizer (spread with chocolate) to the Chocolate Bar pasta (yes, real chocolate mixed in with the pasta) to the dessert. Of course by the time we got to the dessert, the Bananas Foster crepes were calling to me and I was a teeny weenie tiny bit chocolated out at that point. 

Tom ordered the Chocolate Peanut Butter crepes and we still shared. 

So with our stomachs aching, we meandered a bit around downtown Cleveland, but not too late, and were back at my grandparents' house by around 8, too late for dinner and begging off to just sit in the living room, where Tom attempted to keep up with my grandfather's current sports event on the telly, and I almost drifted off to sleep in the crook of his arm.

I was awaked by a soft kiss on my forehead, and a familiar voice telling me to go to bed. I did notice, however, that Tom did not do more than walk me to the stairs, and when I turned to blow him a final kiss, I could see Joey watching from the door between the hall and the living room, a look I was too tired to read on his face.

\-------------------

The next morning when I came downstairs, Tom was already in the kitchen, sitting at the table, munching on a bit of breakfast, which he offered to make for me. I declined, opting for a ginger ale from the fridge. I admit I had slept in a little bit, all the sugar getting the best of me and leaving my stomach a bit sour, but knowing that my time with him was precious and few had propelled me into getting my normally lazy ass out of bed. 

I was dressed in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, knowing today would be a lot like yesterday, more running around, and the sticky Midwestern humidity was starting to crawl back in, having only been temporarily obliterated by the storms. My shorts, in my opinion, were not that short, more like capris, but Tom still eyed my legs.

"Don't get to see them too often," he mused. "You didn't have those in London."

"Joey took me into town when I got here, I got some things at Walmart."

Tom nearly spluttered on his coffee. "Walmart?" he echoed.

"Cheap," I pointed out. "Not all of us are jetsetting superstars."

"If by all you mean none of us, then yes," he agreed. "I'm hardly a superstar, darling, and even less a jetsetter--"

"Oh, so being able to call in and get us two tickets to Los Angeles at a moment's notice isn't jetsetting?"

"Not when it's from Cleveland, love, sorry, I'm not putting down your mother's hometown, it's just--" he sighed, ruffling through the newspaper that had been open before him. "A self respecting jetsetter wouldn't be caught dead here. Which is why I'm not one because I happen to like it."

I smirked, bent over and kissed him lightly. "Well, you'll like it better after I take you to Lilly's Chocolates today."

"Oh, chocolate," he moaned, but it was not in ecstasy. I giggled. 

"Had too much yesterday, darling?"

"I almost got the chocolate sweats last night."

"Well, don't worry, it'll pass and you'll take this home and it'll all be fine."

"Mmm...don't talk about it too much until we get there, just in case." He gave me a playful wink as I finished my energy drink. "Ready to go?"

"I want to talk to Joey first," I said, heading for the back door. "Give me a few."

Truth was, I felt bad. I felt like I had dragged all my personal drama onto my grandparents' doorstep, and while they seemed to very understanding -- or rather oblivious -- I still felt like I was being a poor guest.

Joey was out back, mowing the grass. It was early, not too far past nine, and the morning was still relatively cool, and he was trying to get it done before the real heat came in. What I didn't count on was the fact that he would be doing it shirtless.

He was very attractive. I seemed to have a thing for wiry guys, lean and muscular. With his shirt off, Joey was quite...striking. 

He pulled up to me upon my waving at him. "Hey, the elusive traveler. All things going well?" he asked.

"Yes, very," I said. "I wanted to thank you again. We'll be gone all day again today, and then tomorrow going to the airport."

Joey nodded. "All day," he mused. "And taking the same flight?"

"Yeah, Tom will fly to L.A. with me and then go to the International Terminal to go back to London," I explained, for the third time. We'd told Joey as soon as we knew, but he seemed to have trouble with it.

"Still staying in separate rooms though, right?" he asked.

I flustered a bit, but it wasn't really outrageous of him to ask, considering I'd confided my issues to him when I'd gotten there. "Of course," I said. "God, it's like talking to my mother."

Joey gave a little smirk, lowered his chin a bit bashfully, but didn't waver. "I'm just watching out for you. Want you to be safe."

"I am. I am," I assured him. "It wasn't like he was pressuring me to do something outright wrong," I said.

"Wasn't he?" Joey said softly.

I sighed. "He doesn't see things like that. At least, I didn't think so. But he's coming around. He's starting to get it."

"I hope so." But the tone didn't say so. "I mean, if he had pressured you outright to go against your morals, that would be obvious. But to work it slowly, go through the little barriers, that's much more likely to be successful."

I stared at him for a moment. "I appreciate your concern. And I'm watchful."

Joey nodded. "I think, though, if he does it again, you should be a bit more than watchful."

I huffed just a little bit, gave him a tight smile, and turned away, to see Tom coming out the house and headed toward the rental. He had my purse in his hand.

"Anything else you needed from the house?" he asked. 

I shook my head. "Nope, let's go."

The problem was, Tom knew me too well. He instantly knew I was irritated, and cast a shirtless Joey a rather intense look before following me to the car.

He didn't ask me during the drive. I was too busy trying to direct him to the house, and upon realizing where we were going, I suddenly thought it was a very stupid idea. What did he care that the house used for the exterior of the Christmas Story movie was here? He saw movie sets and more all the time. And it wasn't like the movie had the same meaning for him as it did for me.

It was Hammond, Indiana's book, but the movie had belonged to Cleveland, and my mother had introduced me to it at a very young age. Ralphie and his quest to get a Red Ryder BB-gun, his annoying whiny little brother (I had constantly called Mattie "Randy" if he annoyed me too much), his uptight, strict father who was as human and flawed as anybody else, and the put-upon mother who was smarter and more understanding than anyone gave her credit for. It was a slice of our Midwest history that we clung to, living in the California desert. 

And why the hell did Tom care about any of this? Why was I wasting his time? Sure, it had been years since we'd gone to the house -- it had opened in 2005 and the last time I'd been there had been in my college years -- and I didn't want the chance to go again while I was in town slip past. But why was this going to be interesting to Tom at all? He was here, wasting his time, because of my drama. It wasn't fair to him.

We paid for parking -- it beat trying to find a place on the curb, and it was in a legitimately residential neighborhood -- and sat, looking at the house.

"You know, upon consideration," I said, "we don't have to do this. We can look up something else to do. They have a zoo, a botanical garden, we can easily find other things to do."

"What?" Tom asked, puzzled. "I thought you were excited about this."

"I...I am, but...I don't expect you to be. You're only doing this for me."

Tom seemed to consider his words. "And why would that be a problem? Like you haven't done the same for me?"

I shrugged. "I just don't want to bore you."

He gave a little gasping chuckle. "Why would you...did Joey say something that upset you?"

Oh fart. Here it was. "He just...he was just watching out for me, I guess."

Instead of being mollified at this, Tom's scowl deepened. "What does that mean?"

"He just...wanted to make sure nothing was going on. I mean, considering why I came out here."

"And what is that his business?" Tom looked away when he asked this, looked down at his hands which were flexing in his lap. A tick I hadn't seen before.

"Well, considering why I came here," I said, suddenly defensive and I wasn't sure why, "and I had to explain myself. I mean, he's like me. I explained all this to you the night you came here."

Tom sucked in his cheeks, and nodded, but his eyes were still down. 

"Hence, why I'm in the basement behind a locked door," he said, his voice a low hum. 

"And I've been...away. All day. For the last two days, yesterday and today. I mean, he was just concerned."

Tom gave a humorless chuckle. "What, did we get a hotel room in town so we could do it behind his back?" he practically snapped. "It's not like we have anything to hide from anyone. If we wanted to do that we wouldn't even be staying at your grandparents house. And isn't the fact that you crossed an ocean proof enough of the strength of your convictions for him?"

"Of course he doesn't think that, Tom," I said, starting to panic myself. Why was he pissed?

Tom grunted, started to unbuckle his belt. I lunged across the seat, not knowing where my own brain was at, but knowing he wasn't going to leave this car and taint my beautiful Christmas Story house with a memory of a fight. 

"What is wrong? Are you pissed at me or Joey?"

He still wasn't looking at me. 

"Stupid prat has his shirt off at nine bloody thirty a.m.," Tom grumbled. 

It hit me like a slap. "Tom, you're not jealous!"

He finally looked at me.

"He's my cousin!"

"Well, that hardly means anything anymore," Tom snapped. "And he believes in the same things you do, and he's been your shoulder to cry on before I showed up, and now he's prying into your life--"

"That is utterly...ridiculous." I could hardly talk. I didn't know whether to laugh or roll my eyes. Or maybe both. "Our babies would be born with extra fingers. Or something. That's incest. Just plain and simple."

"He's a cousin, not a brother."

"And even if he was distant enough, he's not...he is NOT interested in me like that."

Tom's eyes were sharp, like blades. "So if he was distant enough, you would?"

"No! I didn't..." Oh shit, I'd stepped in it now. "Tom, how could I possibly look at anyone else when I have you? Have you seen yourself in the mirror?"

"I have, and it seems, my dear, you have a type." Shit fuck damn. 

I shook my head, both in denial and to clear it. "No. This is..." I laughed then, a short, curt giggle. "Stupid. It's just stupid. Someone shows some care and concern and instantly they're branded as a thief. A...woman-stealer." My cheeks were so hot, and he'd cut the engine, there was no AC running. I cracked open the car door and Tom jumped.

"Go ahead, run away when things get sticky," he snapped.

"I'm burning up!" I snapped back. "I'm not //going// anywhere."

"Damn right you aren't." He reached across the gap between the two seats and slid his arm around my shoulders, grabbing me to him and crushing my lips in a crushing, bruising kiss.

I felt a strange mixture of elation and outrage. Maybe they were riding the same adrenaline high. The insecure part of me was doing a little dance that Tom would think for a moment that he had any competition...but the human part of me did not like being in this fashion, like I was being punished for something I didn't do.

So I got my arm between us and shoved him away hard. My hand went to my throbbing lips. How could a kiss hurt so much?

He stared at me from where I'd shoved him, flush against the window of the driver's side. His eyes were wide, shocked. "I'm...I'm so sorry."

"Huh," was all I said. Short, quick, and incredulous.

"I...I just lost you...and now I'm seeing things that...that aren't there."

"I always thought," I said after a long moment of silence, "that I would find it flattering if you got jealous. A sign of...I don't know. How overwhelming your feelings for me are."

I glanced at him. His eyes were down, his face a bit drawn and his cheeks slightly flushed.

"But quite frankly it just feels like an attempt to control me," I sighed. 

Tom shifted, obviously uncomfortable. "I'm sorry," he said again. "I sort of...lost my head."

I looked at him -- stared, more like. He finally met my eyes, slowly letting himself unclench.

"I don't think I want to do this today," I said lightly, as if everything were fine. "Let's head over to that Melt place I told you about. They'll be open for lunch by the time we get there."

"Sure," Tom said, starting the car as I pulled the door closed. No Christmas Story house for me today.

\---------------------------

We just kept stumbling. 

A wild case across an ocean, and now a jealous kiss. Over a cousin! It just struck me as so absurd! And honestly, he wasn't getting pissy over my behavior but of Joey's, and even I had gotten pissy on Joey...

...and I was trying to rationalize it.

We sat, sipping our drinks. Tom's sunglasses sat on the table but his blue Indians hat was still on his head. We hadn't spoken much. I'd tried to keep things light, telling him my favorite things on the menu -- my favorite being a pressed sandwich that had potato dumplings for a filling, along with grilled cabbage in a vinegary dressing that was like an upscale sauerkraut. He ordered what I did, and I suspected it was more from a lack of being able to concentrate than really wanting the same thing. 

"So, this jealous streak of yours," I said as we waited for refills. "How often does it crop up?"

Tom shrugged. "I can be...controlling, that is true. I try not to be. I just get...possessive."

I nodded. "So when I marry you, I'm not going to be allowed to visit my good-looking cousin on my own? You'll have to come with me, if you have time?"

His eyes brightened just a touch at the fact that I'd said "when I marry you," instead of "if." I knew it, he knew it. 

"The funny thing is, I thought I'd be the jealous one. I mean, it was not fun watching you in Crimson Peak going at Mia, but I don't think I was quite that infuriated. Although I did have a nasty dream that night that you broke up with me to date Tilda Swinton, but...well.." I shrugged, cutting off my own rambling.

"I'm not going to make excuses for myself or justify my behavior," Tom said, sounding resigned. "But I am sorry. And I don't want to ruin our last full day together with this."

I shook my head. "It's not ruined. Completely. The Christmas Story house will still be open this afternoon. We can go back. I mean, after we get back from our honeymoon, we'll have to go back to my grandparents and have very loud sex in the basement so that you can shove that in Joey's face."

Tom, to my slight surprise, chuckled at the vision. "Fair point."

I reached across the table for his hand. "Look, I love you. And up until that moment in the car you've treated me like gold. It would be unfair to let all of that go to hell because of one bad moment where you kissed me too hard. But...I don't want to go along with this and then have you turn into someone else when I marry you."

Tom's eyes widened. "No! No, of course not..." His hand squeezed mine. "I won't do it again."

"Because I have no qualms filing for an annulment if you pull that shit on me even after we've taken vows."

"Of course, darling. I'm not a Jekyll and Hyde, I promise," he chuckled. He leaned closer, and he was nimble enough to reach across the table and place soft kisses on the lips he had bruised before. "I promise, my love, I promise." A half dozen light little pecks later he was back in his seat and our refills had come. 

"And...and I can't blame you too much for getting worked up because...well, I know how crazy it would make anyone to lose me," I said, tongue in cheek.

He pulled my hand to his lips and kissed it with slow, tender kisses. "Mock me gently, sweet Michelle, for I love thee cruelly."

We didn't have any more fights the rest of the day. We even made it back to the house. And Tom bought me an outrageous amount of chocolate from Lilly's, in spite of how expensive it was. I made it up to him the next day by making him try it, and wound up giving half of it to him. 

All in all, not a bad trip.


End file.
